


Far from the Fire

by aameyalli



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aameyalli/pseuds/aameyalli
Summary: Alistair likes Mahariel, and isn't sure what to do with that. Wynne may have been the wrong person to ask. Mini-fic companion to my Alistair Appreciation Week drawing.
Relationships: Alistair/Mahariel (Dragon Age), Alistair/Male Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Far from the Fire

“Whatever’s got you so gloomy, out with it. I’ve had enough of your sighs and moony eyes.”

Alistair and Wynne sat at the foot of an old ash tree, atop a low ridge overlooking the camp. The other Wardens, gathered around their fire, were divided from them by the dark slope and a dry streambed they loftily called "The Ravine."

Alistair almost sighed again, but caught himself. “It’s not important.”

Wynne arched her brows. “Well then,” she said, “I’ll just go back to the fire and warm my poor old body and you can ask Aranai for advice.”

“No!” Panicked, Alistair grabbed her sleeve. Her brows went higher. Alistair let go. “It’s just, um... I’ve felt...” What was the word he wanted. “Stirrings...” No! Maker! Fuck! Why had he said _stirrings!_ Gross! “Feelings... Romantic feelings... and I don’t know...” He floundered, miserable. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate.”

“I don’t see how a Blight ought to make young love inappropriate,” said Wynne. “You have a giving heart, Alistair. Being eager to share it is hardly a sin, and in dark times it’s only natural to wish our dear ones held and safe.”

Alistair could see him down in the ravine, loping along in search of firewood or berries or something, his dark hair falling in his eyes. Mahariel pushed a loose strand behind his ear, and the moonlight caught on his tattoos. Beyond him, the Wardens’ campfire crackled merrily, and mingled laughter—human, elf, dwarf, even a low, stormy rumble from Sten—carried on the night air. They didn’t seem bothered by Mahariel’s absence, but he looked cheerful on his own, his ears perked up and his steps so easy. Someone like him didn’t need to be held, could keep himself safe, but still Alistair _wanted..._

“Now, if one rushes into a wartime marriage—“ Wynne tutted. “But Lady Cousland is such a fine girl, very patient, I wouldn’t worry.”

“Lady—“ Alistair cleared his throat, and lifted his eyes from the elf far below them. “Um. Lady Cousland?”

“See more than I let on, don’t I?” Wynne patted Alistair’s cheek twice, briskly, which left him blinking in alarm.

“Lady—um. No. No, we’re just—Farrah’s a friend. That’s all. A great friend. But. Maker, no, but it would be so much easier if it was her. Or any human woman. It’s more difficult.”

Wynne regarded him, her eyes pale and uncommunicative, then leaned forward, propping an elbow on her knee, as if trying to see his face better. “Alistair,” she said. “I thought better of you.”

Alistair went cold. “W—What?”

“I had thought you a very open-minded young man.” Wynne was starting to look very stern indeed, lifting her sharp nose higher and higher. “It is not _inappropriate_ for a human to love an elf. They are quite our equals in sentiment and sense. It is disappointing, really, to hear such old world prejudice from you. Miss Tabris is a charming, clever girl and—“

“Miss Tabris!” Alistair couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

“What?” Wynne snapped. “What is it? I have said nothing funny!”

Alistair hunched forward, shoulders shaking, and laughed into his fist.

Down at the bottom of the hill, Mahariel lifted his ears curiously, and then looked up. He smiled when he caught sight of Alistair, a sweet, uncertain, close-lipped smile, and held up a bundle of herbs and stuff for Alistair to see. The movement of his arm stirred up the long grasses, and fireflies rose in a cloud all around him, burning all doubt away.

**Author's Note:**

> Art piece here: https://hawkepockets.tumblr.com/post/613351289716359168/whatevers-got-you-so-gloomy-out-with-it-ive  
> This fic mentions OC Wardens: Nan Mahariel, Farrah Cousland, Honey Anna Tabris.


End file.
